Page 87 of Hate You Later
Cookie is lying on the floor with her paws out in front of her. Her head is down and her ears are tucked back. Her tail is nestled between her legs. She’s looking up submissively at the cat standing over her. Oliver, meanwhile, is totally unfazed. He’s sitting calmly in front of her. So close that their noses are almost touching. Is he sniffing her snout?
Without any warning, Oliver licks her. He licks Cookie right on the nose. She startles a little but doesn’t move. Tentatively, her tail loosens and thumps. I think she likes it!
Ashley groans.
“Is that your dog?” she asks, looking down at me disgustedly, then back at the wet spot Cookie is lying in. “Because I think she had an accident. Gross. You should probably get that cleaned up before it sets.”
My face flames with shame and frustration. I cannot meet Hudson’s eyes. Stupid, stupid, stupid. What was I thinking? That there might be something meaningful between us?
“Sorry about the mess,” I say. “I told you she’s afraid of cats.”
“Uh … doesn’t look that way to me,” Ashley says. The nasal twang in her voice grates on me. She sounds like one of those stereotypically spoiled princesses from television sitcoms. She adds extra syllables. When she says me, it sounds like meee-uh.
I decide to ignore her. “Can I just get a towel or something? I’ll clean up and get out of your hair. Seems like you two have some catching up to do.”
“Thanks so much for understanding.” Ashley shoots me a self-satisfied look.
“Absolutely not!” Hudson shouts. “The only person leaving the loft right now is Ashley.”
“But Huds,” she protests. “I told my driver to have my bags delivered here.”
“Which was pretty damn presumptuous of you, Ashley,” he says. “There’s always room at the motel if you can’t find anywhere better to stay. I’m happy to call you a cab. But you are NOT staying here.”
“I’ll just use these …” I grab a roll of paper towels off the counter and head toward the puddle, but Hudson catches my wrist and takes the towels.
“No, Georgia. You’re my guest. I’ll get that. And for the record, Ashley is not my girlfriend or my anything. She’s just messing with you. The only reason she came here is for the cat.”
“Rude!” Ashley rolls her eyes. She’s glaring at Hudson now. “But typical.” Now she turns to face me. “Word to the wise, or whatever you are. It’s not going to work out. He’s not into long-term relationships. Hudson Holm doesn’t do commitments.”
“Uber is on its way,” Hudson says. “Do you need to grab anything, or are you good to go?”
“Fine. Whatever. You don’t have to be such an asshole about it. I just wanted to see my cat.”
“Don’t go anywhere, Georgia,” Hudson says. “I’m going to walk Ashley out, and then I’m going to clean up. Can you keep an eye on those two for a minute?”
Cookie is still eyeing Oliver warily. She seems almost afraid to move. She’s looking desperately at me for reassurance. Oliver, on the other hand, has stretched out next to the dog and fallen asleep. He is snoring. Loudly. If it wasn’t so ridiculous, it would be funny. Actually, it’s still funny.
“Do you see them?” I ask Hudson.
“Right?” he answers and brushes his fingers down my spine. I sizzle.
“Um … it’s a little chilly out. Can I borrow a sweater?” Ashley asks.
“No!” Hudson says, and he shows her the door.
Before Hudson can come back, I collect my things and clip Cookie’s leash back on.
Who was that? An ex? Is it really over between them? Is she making a play to get him back? Obviously. Has he been watching her cat all this time as a way to keep her on the back burner? Friends with benefits? Doubt, suspicion, and a bunch of other emotions crowd to the surface.
Questions. So many questions.
Whoever she was, she seems like a jerk. Had she said Oliver was her cat? Who abandons their pet for weeks on end like that? I clench and unclench my fist. A not-so-small part of me wishes I had a socially acceptable reason to punch someone. In many ways, getting physical is so much simpler. A relief even. I know how to defend myself physically. I’d never run from a fight.
But this thing with Hudson isn’t just physical, I’m starting to realize. And it has me spinning out, ready to run. What is it about Hudson Holm that has me wanting to run every time I see him? Either at him or away.
My body practically aches with the wanting. But no. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.
I reach the street just as he’s turning to head back in. The Uber’s taillights are sliding off into the night, vanishing along with our moment.
